Subject line: natural disaster.

 

lynchburg, virginia. 

I send him song lyrics and lines from my favorite poems because I’m too afraid to say the words myself. I spend Saturday mornings cutting up the natural disasters in newspapers and slapping on stamps to mail the black and white ink across the world. I send the clippings because I’m too afraid to admit that I didn’t just witness the natural disaster…I caused it. My heart is the wreckage left after a hurricane because I brought the whirlwind and rain to myself. I welcomed that storm. I said “here is my heart, break it.”